


Profession

by gin_tonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Prostitution, Snarry-A-Thon17
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-24 06:59:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10736538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/gin_tonic
Summary: Harry is happy in his life and his job, until Snape comes along.





	Profession

**Author's Note:**

> This didn't turn out quite as porny as I expected when I signed up for it. ;)
> 
> Prompt: Old school rent boy fic with either Snape or Harry as the rent boy and the other the customer.

Harry swung himself out of the bed, using a spell to transfer the money from the nightstand into the pockets of his trousers. 

"Do you have to leave already?" the man in the bed behind him asked lazily.

"You only paid for one round," Harry said with a wry smile. He considered taking a shower in this place—he had seen the lavish bathroom before—but he craved the comfort and cleanliness of his own home. "You know how to find me."

The man in the bed mumbled a sleepy confirmation, while Harry donned his clothes. Harry had never bothered to learn this man's name, even though he was one of his regulars. He just called him _Moustache Guy_. It was easier that way. 

Harry Apparated into the hallway of his flat and immediately walked into the bathroom. He vanished his clothes with one smooth motion, before stepping right into the shower. It always felt strange when he returned from a visit to a customer. Not because of the physical aspect of his work, but because it always felt as if he was washing off the persona he put on for his clients. _Moustache Guy_ , for example, liked Harry when he was cold and aloof. Another one of his clients that he called _Leather Pants_ really preferred it when Harry acted shy and somewhat girly, while a third— _Slipover_ —wanted Harry to be really dominant when he was around him. But whenever he came back home, he was none of these people. He was just Harry.

When Harry stepped out of the bathroom, towel slung around his hips and hair still dripping, he found an owl waiting for him outside the window. He let it in while turning on the TV absentmindedly, then offered it a treat while he look the letter off its leg. The seal on the parchment told him that it was from his manager, Kieran.

_H,_

_Just wanted to let you know that your regular Tuesday customer has passed away. While that is unfortunate and sad, it means you have another opening. I'll be sending over suggestions—you pick the one you like best._

_K_

Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Tuesday. That was _Leather Pants_ 's day. What a shame—he hadn't even been that old. He had liked his client—he always paid with a tip, was clean, and smelled nice. To have to look for another customer was going to be a bother, too—not to speak of having to get used to a completely new persona he would have to put on. He shook his head and tossed the balled up letter into the trash.

******

Harry sipped on his ginger ale as he watched the third prospect leave. These kinds of meet-and-greets were always exhausting, yet they were necessary. These first three had passed Kieran's screening process, had sounded okay in their applications, and didn't picture anything too outlandish. Yet Harry didn't find the thought of having to have sex with these men too appealing. And, as his manager liked to say, this job of his was a two-way street. With only twelve spots for regulars and the prices he charged, he could afford to be picky.

Lost in thought, he didn't see the next man approach his table and received quite a shock when he sat down. His surprise was mirrored on Snape's face.

Snape was the first to speak. "I spotted you when I walked in. But leaving without saying a word seemed rude," he said, as if he was trying to apologize for sitting down.

Harry snorted. "I didn't know you were afraid to be rude."

Snape sniffed. "I am direct, not rude. And when I make appointments I do keep them."

"Fair enough." Snape hadn't changed much in looks or behaviour, apparently. He still was a greasy bastard. Then again, there were some that said Harry was still scrawny and brash. "What now? Are you planning to stay for one courtesy drink at least before you leave?" He didn't wait for Snape to reply, but rather turned to Neville, who was hovering behind the bar, and nodded. 

Snape sighed. "I guess that's been decided." Neville took his order without looking at Snape, then left again.

"He watches out for me."

"He knows what you do?"

"You mean does Neville know I fuck men for a living?" Harry sipped on his drink. "Sure, he does."

"And he accepts it?"

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Didn't you come here explicitly in hopes to rent a regular fucktoy?" 

Snape had the decency to—well, not blush, but to gain colour in his cheeks. "I—yes." He looked away in silence until Neville had brought him a glass of whisky. Then he stared at that.

"Fine," said Harry, "Go on and ask what you must want to know." Everybody who learned about his job wanted to _know_ about the details. Once the curiosity was satisfied, they left for good and stayed as far away as possible.

It took Snape almost a minute until he'd made up his mind. Then he started the questioning. "Do your other friends know what you do for a living?"

"They do."

"And do they accept it as well?"

"Since they are still my friends, yes. Those that don't accept it aren't my friends anymore."

"And Weasley?"

"Ron? He doesn't want any details, but apart from that…"

Snape pursed his lips. Harry wasn't sure if he found the answers disappointing or satisfying. Maybe he had hoped that Harry's line of work meant that the _Boy Who Lived_ had fallen from grace, when in fact barely anyone cared. Though he didn't exactly make his services public or speak to any media outlets anymore. 

Harry looked at his watch. Kieran had only scheduled four meetings for today, but he did plan to catch today's football match on telly. Besides, he could think of more pleasurable things than to talk to one of his old school nemeses. "Look, can we speed this up? You're obviously just staying so you can satisfy your curiosity and to probably gain some ammunition you can use against me. Why don't I answer your most burning question, then you can say whatever mean thing you wanted to get off your chest and piss off again."

When Snape didn't say anything, Harry took a deep breath and said: "The thing you will want to ask—the thing everyone wants to know—is how did I came to fuck men for money. It's easy. Got injured so I couldn't play Quidditch professionally, didn't want to hunt and fight bad guys, looked for something I could do really well. Poof, there you go."

Snape didn't move, didn't look as though he was about to leave. 

Harry frowned. "That means you can leave."

Snape slowly sipped on his whisky. "What if I don't want to leave?" 

Harry almost spit out his drink in shock. "You mean you actually want to become my client?" When Snape nodded, Harry signalled Neville for a whisky. He needed something stronger for this conversation. He hadn't expected this.

"Why are you so surprised? After all, I came here with the purpose to hire an exclusive rent boy."

Neville, being perceptive enough to know when not to come near Harry and Snape, floated Harry's drink over, which he grabbed and quickly held on to. "That you did. But why? I never even knew you liked men."

Snape sneered at him. "Because I keep my private life just that—private."

"By hiring rent boys?" 

"Not so far, but I think it would be less exhausting than having to troll Muggle bars and clubs to find someone willing to fuck."

Harry blinked and hid his surprise by sipping on his drink. But Snape did have a point. "What makes you think I'd even take you?" 

"Apart from the fact that I can pay? Potter, since when did you say no to a challenge?"

For a second Harry had thought Snape would throw in Harry's schoolboy crush on the Half-Blood Prince. Now that he hadn't, Harry didn't know if he should feel relieved or not. Nevertheless, his interest was piqued. "Fine," he finally said. "I'll let my manager know that he should set up a meeting. But I'm warning you—this thing goes two ways. If I feel this isn't working out…" He downed his whisky and left it at that. He doubted that Snape would show up anyway.

******

An hour before their scheduled meeting, Harry couldn't ignore that he would soon see Snape. For days, he had told himself Snape wouldn't show up, but when Kieran had again _owled_ to confirm the timing, he finally had to admit that Snape was way too stubborn not to come. In fact, Harry was quite sure he wouldn't balk at fucking Harry, even if it was just to prove a point. He hated the fact that the thought made him tingly. Snape shouldn't evoke that feeling in him. None of his clients should.

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. Primped and ready to go. He had not assumed any new persona yet—Snape hadn't sent him any instructions. It made him feel naked, in a way. Harry hadn't met a new client like this in well over a year. Especially not one like Snape. 

Harry took a deep breath, then donned his clothes and walked to the door. For this round, they would be meeting in an apartment that Kieran kept for situations like this. Some clients eventually preferred he came to their house, but this was a first meeting and it was safer that way. Harry might not need protection from Snape, but the fact that he had it gave him comfort in a way.

******

Snape was already at the apartment when Harry Apparated in. They both stared at each other for a few seconds. Snape talked first. "You're late."

"I'm exactly on time," Harry said, rolling his eyes. "I didn't think you'd come."

"You know me better than that."

Harry moved into the room and hung his jacket over the back of a chair. Usually, he'd already play out the role he was assigned. He cleared his throat, feeling slightly awkward. "Do you want to tell me your parameters?"

"Parameters?" Snape raised an eyebrow. "I didn't know you know such sophisticated words."

"I'm a whore, not stupid."

"Could have fooled me when you were still my student."

Harry opened his mouth, but caught himself in time. "Let's not do this." He hesitated. "Unless you want to play out some student-teacher fantasy. Is that it?"

Snape pulled a face.

"Okay then. What do you want me to do? Do you want me docile? Rebellious? Coy? Do you want to seduce me? Put me in women's clothing?"

"Is that what other men ask you to do?" Snape walked towards him as he undid the first two buttons at the top of his shirt.

"I don't discuss my clients. I'm merely listing options." Harry stood there and watched Snape stride towards him. Let himself get pressed up against the wall.

"I don't want any of that," Snape said, now so close to his ear.

"What do you want then?"

"You." Snape kissed him.

******

The next day, Harry woke up in his own bed, feeling sore in a good way. He could almost feel Snape's long, hard cock still inside him, Snape's hot breath against the back of his neck. Sex had been rough and quick, but utterly good—Harry hadn't expected that, to say the least. Nor had he expected that Snape would be a good kisser.

The evening had been surprising. Or enlightening. And maybe even a bit confusing, Harry found as he stared against his bedroom ceiling. Though he wouldn't tell Ron about his new client anytime soon. He could only imagine his friend's face when he told him—for that alone it would be almost worth it. But for now, Harry wanted to keep Snape to himself. The thought warmed him, somehow.

******

When Harry arrived for their second meeting, Snape was already there, too. Once the door closed behind him, Harry began undressing. Snape stared at him greedily.

"Aren't you getting undressed?" Harry asked.

"I'd rather watch you," Snape said huskily.

"Fucking me is a bit hard if you have your pants on," Harry said, laughing. Snape inclined his head and popped open the first button on his trousers. "Better." Harry threw his shirt on an armchair, and decided to finally satisfy his curiosity and make some small talk. "What have you been up to in the last couple of years? Not teaching—I would have heard."

"I work as a Potions master. Owl business only."

"No co-workers?"

"No. Why?"

"Just wondering who would have to hide your inclinations from, if not people at work."

"You of all people should know how our world would treat me if the _Daily Prophet_ got wind of it."

"You think they're still interested in you?"

"They run a 'what have they been up to' feature every year. Curious that you and your proclivities have never made front page, though."

"My manager's privacy agreement goes both ways. And everyone who gets to meet me signs a waiver beforehand that forbids them to tell anyone about me. Quite literally. You should know."

Snape hung his trousers over the back of a chair. "Enough talk, Potter," he said, standing naked next to the bed. "Come and suck my cock."

******

Snape wasn't good looking. His skin was sallow, his fingers stained and beneath his robes hid a tiny hint of a belly that betrayed his age. Still, Harry couldn't stop thinking about him. He told himself it was because of the way he encountered Snape. Because Snape was a new client and new stuff was always interesting. But he knew he was lying to himself. He just wasn't ready to dig deeper.

Things became more complicated, even, when Snape started questioning Harry at the end of their fifth meeting.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"What, putting on my clothes?" Harry asked, buttoning up his jeans.

"I am referring to your—profession."

Harry halted and looked at Snape. He had had this kind of conversation before. Sometimes clients wanted to _save_ Harry. This usually played out three ways. Either, the client ended up wanting to roleplay that he would be saving Harry from the ugly, hard life of prostitution—Harry would include stories of a pimp that didn't exist and of the street life he didn't lead. Or the client would forget about it. Or, and that was the option he was now being most afraid of, his client really wanted Harry to quit that life and Harry would have to stop seeing him. Snape wasn't one to roleplay. And he wasn't one to mention something casually and then forget about it, either.

Harry swallowed thickly, trying not to think of the implications. "I like the life I lead."

"Is this what you imagined you'd be when you grew up?"

Harry smiled wryly. "No. But I wasn't sure I was going to grow up, anyway. Plus, back then I didn't know that I was gay. Or just how good I'd be in bed." He didn't look at Snape and busied himself with looking for his shirt. If Snape gave up now, he wouldn't have to say anything.

"If this is about money—"

Harry closed his eyes and sighed. "Look, I like what I'm doing. I'm completely fine with it and you should be too, seeing as you actually pay to fuck me." The look Snape wore was a mixture of pity, worry, and anger. Harry had seen it before. "I don't need saving. You might recall that I can take care of myself just fine. And if you can't deal with this, then you and me might not the best fit."

"Listen, Potter, I don't think you should have to—"

Harry pulled on his shirt, grabbed his robe and wand and strode towards the door. "I'll let my manager know that he should set you up with another guy." Then he Disapparated.

******

Harry slept fitfully and felt so out of sorts the next day that he had to cancel his next appointment. When he had to let go of a client before, it hadn't been this hard. It shouldn't be this hard. Hadn't been when _Leather Pants_ died. He rested his head in his hands. How could he miss that stupid, intolerant bastard? They had hardly ever talked. Yet it felt like he had let go of a part of himself.

Wandering aimlessly through his flat, Harry wondered if he had done the right thing by telling Snape that their tryst was over. All logic dictated that he couldn't keep seeing Snape, not if the man wanted to turn him into something he wasn't. What did Snape expect? That Harry would just agree with him, and say goodbye to his life as an escort? And do what afterwards? Harry didn't even know what Snape imagined he'd do then. He wasn't qualified to do anything else. Sure, Harry knew that he couldn't work as a rent boy forever—age would eventually catch up with him and most of his customers preferred someone younger, someone with firm muscles and stamina. But by the time Harry would have to retire, he would hopefully have amassed enough money to last either until he died or until he found something new to do. Whatever that was supposed to be, though, he had no clue.

Harry sighed and went to the kitchen to make some tea. This had to stop. He'd just have to get busy and take his mind off things.

******

After several days of moping mixed in with flurries of activity to drive thoughts of Snape from his mind, Harry popped by Neville's bar for a quick drink and a chat, hoping it would get his head straight. But the moment he had entered, he knew something was wrong—Neville looked at him with dismay instead of the usual quiet exuberance.

"Harry! I'm so glad you're here!" he said, sounding somewhat out of breath, almost as if he had been chased.

"Bad news?" Harry said, hopping up on a stool.

"You could say so," Neville said, drawing a pint for Harry. He slid it over and leaned close. "I'm being haunted."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "Haunted? What, there are ghosts in the pub?"

Neville shook his head. "It's Snape. He's haunting me."

Harry stopped in his tracks, his hand less than an inch from his glass. "Snape?" Of course, it had to be Snape. Of course, the fates wouldn't make forgetting the man easy.

"Yes! He comes in and he hovers around the bar. He's _looming_ and constantly staring at me."

"What does he want?"

"I don't know!" Neville threw his hands in the air, then grappled to catch the towel that had slipped from his fingers. "He never says anything. Doesn't talk or order a drink."

"So, you're saying he comes in here, stares at you silently and leaves?"

Neville nodded emphatically. "Well, he stays longer than I appreciate, that much is certain. Harry, it's creeping me out. My patrons aren't enthusiastic about that kind of behaviour, either. Please, can you tell him to stop?"

Harry bit his lip. "I don't see him anymore."

Neville gaped at him. "That's it! That's why he's coming around! Harry, you have to make him stop. Please! Just go and talk to him and tell him to loom around somewhere else."

Harry wanted to say no, of course, and explain that he had his reasons why he wasn't seeing Snape anymore. However, he saw the panic in Neville's eyes, the fear of Snape coming back and staying even longer. Snape was stubborn enough not to give this behaviour up and Neville would start taking desperate measures. He couldn't let his friend down. "All right, I'll go talk to him."

******

Kieran readily handed over Snape's address when Harry told him he had something to straighten out. He hadn't yet let him know what had occurred with Snape, although he wasn't quite sure why. It certainly made things easier now, though.

Snape no longer lived at Spinner's End. Harry could sympathize. After the war people had started flocking to Godric's Hollow, Spinner's End, and even to Grimmauld Place—despite it still being hidden from the public—for various reasons. Some had probably hoped to catch a glimpse of heroes and foes alike and some only wanted to stir up trouble. It was why Harry lived in the middle of London, where anonymity was key. Snape's new place was out of the way, in a little, quiet village, far away from neighbours to avoid curious looks, and so boring looking that nobody would look for him here. Apart from Harry, that was. 

Steeling himself against what might be waiting on the other side of the door, Harry knocked. After what felt like an eternity, Snape opened the door. Harry was taken aback by the look of indifference that greeted him—it differed so starkly from the way Snape had looked at him during the last times they had met.

"What do you want?" Snape asked, sounding almost bored.

Harry frowned and took a deep breath, telling himself that Snape would probably only provoke him. "I want to talk. Can I come in?" 

"Aren't you afraid I might try to convince you to change your ways again?"

Harry just rolled his eyes at Snape and stepped around him into the house. He peered into the first room—the living room, filled with books—and walked onwards until he had found the kitchen. Only then did he turn around. 

"Speak," Snape said, facing Harry with his arms crossed in front of his chest.

"You have been frequenting Neville's pub."

"I didn't know that was forbidden."

"It's not. If you actually order something and don't just stare at Neville in hopes he might tell me and I come talk to you."

Snape sniffed. "I don't remember doing anything like that."

"Of course you don't." Harry sighed. "But let's pretend that you did. Please don't harass him anymore. After all, I'm here now. I got the message. What did you want to talk to me about?"

"I—" Snape shook his head. "Never mind. I know how stubborn you are and that you meant what you said about liking your profession. As ludicrous as that sounds."

If he had nothing to say, why had Snape mooned around at the pub, Harry wondered. But he decided to play along anyway. "I do like it. I like sex, I like the freedom it gives me. I like slipping into these different personas when I'm with a client."

"You weren’t someone else when you were with me, though."

"No, I wasn't," Harry admitted. The thought gave him a tingling feeling. Snape looked kind of pleased, too. "You never told me to," Harry added.

"No."

Harry shuffled his feet around, unsure how to go on. He couldn't stomach the idea of leaving now that he had said his piece about Neville. "You—you said I shouldn't have to fuck other men. I was wondering: why does the thought upset you so much? After all, you came to me as a client. You knew right from the start what you'd get and what to expect."

Snape was silent for a while, an intense look on his face. Then he went over to the sink. "Tea?" he asked and started filling the kettle before Harry could say something. "I know how it started. Yet the thought of having to share you makes me—me so jealous. I never thought I'd feel like this about anyone, especially you."

Harry rubbed the back of his neck. "Thanks?" 

"What if I buy all your time? You wouldn't have to see these other men."

The thought was tempting. It would certainly guarantee his income for quite a while and he might even have to work less. Still, wouldn't it make him Snape's private fuck-toy? "As nice as the offer is, I'd lose all my independence. How could I talk to you honestly, if you were the only thing between me and unemployment?" Harry shook his head. This wasn't the right way. But he had an idea. One that had lurked in the back of his mind, one that he had been afraid to voice even to himself. Harry took a deep breath and decided to go for it. "I want to keep seeing you, but I think I can't keep you as a client. I can offer you something else, though. We could try dating."

"Dating?"

"Yes. That way, I can keep my independence and you aren't just one of my customers."

"Because I wouldn't be paying you. How does that solve the problem? You'd still be fucking other men and I'd still know."

"But you'd be special. If this works out between us, I mean. You'd have something no one else has. My customers would just be that—customers. A job. One that I enjoy, but still just a job. And you'd be—"

"What? Your boyfriend?"

Harry shrugged. "I haven't thought in terms of terminology yet, but why not. You'd be different, though."

Snape inclined his head, kettle with cold water still in his hands. "I'm not sure."

"It's all I can offer you," said Harry and pushed away from the counter. "Take it or leave it."

"I'll think about it."

******

Harry spent three days staring at the window, hoping for an owl that would bring Snape's answer. When none had come by the evening of day three, he ordered pizza, grabbed a beer and settled down on the sofa—rather gingerly, though, as he was still a bit sore from the last client meeting that day. Maybe it was better that way. He'd find new client soon, he was sure. Surely, he could go back to his life before he'd fallen for Snape. At least that's what he told himself. He almost believed it, too.

Harry woke from the sound of a beak tapping impatiently against glass. Still caught in the middle of sleep and being awake, Harry struggled out of the blanket and round the pizza box and opened the window. The owl outside scowled at him and stuck out its foot. Harry fumbled to free it from the little note attached to it. The bird flew off before Harry had opened the rolled up piece of parchment. In it, he found just one word— _Yes_ —and the details to Snape's _Floo_ connection. Harry beamed at the piece of parchment and, without even giving it a second thought, marched over to his fireplace. He didn't know what the future might hold for them or if they were going to work out, but he was glad they would try.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave a comment here or at [Livejournal](http://snape-potter.livejournal.com/3721203.html), [Insanejournal](http://asylums.insanejournal.com/snape_potter/1658417.html), or [Dreamwidth](http://snape-potter.dreamwidth.org/963581.html).


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